


Pear Blossoms

by summerartist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of smoking addiction, some blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 15:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16705306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerartist/pseuds/summerartist
Summary: Aragorn inadvertently curbs a habit, Legolas ends up with a black eye, and Gimli is perturbed. It's just another day in the life of the three hunters.(Gen and heavy on the h/c)





	Pear Blossoms

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while back and rediscovered it recently.

 

Aragorn loaded up the bowl of his pipe with a fresh pinch of leaf. Here the breeze would only slightly impede his smoking under the pear trees in the little valley. He turned his head upwards again to look towards the flowering branches and admire the numerous blossoms. The trees were shedding petals like an animal shedding fur. The ground was littered with the pale blossoms and fresh white petals.

 

Aragorn re-lit his bowl full of leaf and began to puff on it. The effect was calming and habitual, too habitual according to some, namely the elves. His father would be having fits if he knew how often he smoked now.

 

Aragorn gave a wry smile as he looked down at the petals strewn by his outstretched legs. The thoughts of Imiladris and his father warmed his heart in a small way and his found his mood steadily improving. It had been difficult navigating the intricacies of diplomacy between his band of friends and the peoples of Rohan. The remaining Fellowship were a source of power and might but also of a wild temperament at times. Gimli’s bluntness was always getting him into trouble and Legolas’s apparent aloofness did not sit well with some people. Estel was trying his best to smooth ruffled feathers ever since he arrived at the Golden Hall and then onward into their journey to Gondor.

 

Speaking of the elf, he could almost hear him now. Legolas’s soft tread was barely noticeable but Aragorn’s keen senses had become accustomed to picking up that sort of thing. He watched the approach of elven style boots as he puffed on his pipe. Legolas was surely going to discourage him from smoking again but Estel would have none of it and he resolved to stand up for his choice on the matter if the elf was going to take issue with it. He was too much of a mother hen like Elrond at times.

 

What he saw next gave him cause to stop drawing on the pipe and pluck it out of his mouth. His eyes widened as he watched the petals develop a crimson stain overtop them. Great globules of blood dropped down and splattered the earth and flowers. Aragorn quickly directed his gaze upwards towards his friend. Legolas was covering one side of his face with a bloody hand and more of it dripped down and collected under his chin. Aragorn tossed aside his pipe and stood. He approached the wounded elf slowly, speaking in Sindarian.

 

“What happened? Who did this?”

 

As far as he knew their group of horsemen and townsfolk had gone unnoticed by Saron’s spies and they had not met any ill will across the countryside. Legolas must have been wounded by one of their party.

 

Estel gently started to pry his hand away from his face so that he could assess the damage.

 

“It’s not bad, I think. It’s only a scratch,” Legolas assured him.

 

The amount of crimson on his fair skin was effectively obscuring the wound but what Estel could see of it did not point towards injuries to the eyeball or deep tissue damage. The elf had been lucky.

 

“Who did this?” He asked again.

 

Legolas gave an impatient huff.

 

“No one except myself is at fault.”

 

Now that Aragorn was inspecting him more closely he could see a tiny cut above his eyebrow and some swelling near his eye. Legolas was going to develop a black eye but he otherwise seemed well. There was a deceptive amount of blood loss and it was still dripping onto the forest floor.

 

“Come on, there’s a small stream nearby that I can wash it out in.”

 

He started leading Legolas towards it. Since Legolas could not see the injury Aragorn filled him in about it.

 

“It is but a small cut but it bleeds like a much greater wound. I’ve not seen anything like it.”

 

He had seen a great many wounds in his time and treated a fair amount of head wounds. They always bled excessively but this small cut was bleeding like it was over an artery.

 

Legolas wore an indecipherable expression.

 

“You’ve seen something like it before, but very long ago. You were only a child when I sought refuge in Imiladris for wounds I gained upon the road. I’ve always bled excessively, a characteristic of my bloodline that skipped a generation before me.”

 

They came quickly upon the small trickle of water running through the countryside. Estel directed his friend over to a short flat rock so that he could take a seat. The elf settled gracefully down and Aragorn walked over to the water to start wetting some clean rags from his medical pouch. As he worked he kept up the conversation.

 

“Really? I have no memory of the occurrence.”

 

Legolas smirked slightly.

 

“I would wonder if you did. You were rushed out of the room swiftly by your father who rightfully thought a child should not witness such a sight. I hear that Lindor still cannot get the stains out of the wood flooring.”

 

Legolas hissed as Estel started rubbing roughly at his brow with a cold wet cloth. The ranger was putting a lot of pressure through his touch to rub off the dirt around the crusted blood.

 

“I’m still waiting to hear what befell you and how you managed to batter your face like a human drinking at a tavern.”

 

Legolas scoffed at the lackluster insult. Now Estel was smirking as he gently held a clean rag to the elf’s face. His other hand cupped the back of his golden head to keep him immobile.

 

“If you must know I was helping a townsman bathe his hunting dog.”

 

The generosity of the elf did not surprise him for he knew Legolas had been helping the Rohan refugees any way he could.

 

“Did the dog bite you or scratch you?”

 

“Scratch,” Legolas said and then thought a moment. “I suppose it bit me if you wish to split hairs over it, but the hound did not wish me harm. I was lifting it when its head reared back and its tooth caught me.”

 

Estel let him go for a moment to see new beads of blood form. He hurriedly returned the pressure to the small wound.

 

“You were lucky it did not injure your eye.”

 

Legolas hummed agreement.

 

 

Their casual and quiet meeting in the clearing was interrupted by a voice calling for them both. A small and stout person came into view, huffing and puffing for breath as he worked his way through the forest undergrowth. At last when he reached them he breathed a sigh and leaned over with his hands on his knees.

 

“Good, the elf found you. One moment everyone was having a quiet day and the next moment everyone was shouting that the elf was bleeding inordinately and had ran back into the woods. Well lad, what’s the damage?”

 

Gimli slowly approached the man and elf, noting how Aragorn had been steadily holding his head to apply pressure. Aragorn let go and let the dwarf inspect the cut for himself.

 

Gimli gave a short irritable huff even as relief spread over his features. “’Tis but a scratch. The way everyone was talking one would have suspected that the elf had split his head open.”

 

Legolas snorted. “I can give you a matching scar should you like.”

 

Aragorn directed a reluctant smile at the quarreling friends. His next statement was directed more at Gimli.

 

“He’ll have a black eye before long. He’s been bruised about the eye socket and its already beginning to swell. He’ll not be a pleasant sight for the next few days.”

 

Gimli predictably responded with a statement about the elf never being a pleasant sight for which Legolas traded his own insult back. Aragorn just barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes at their bickering.

 

Even as he reluctantly endured their quarreling he could not help but notice again how fond their fights were starting to sound. Their eyes would gleam at the challenge and a smile would tug at the corners of their mouths as they traded jibe for jibe.

 

The easy company of the three hunters helped dispel any lingering fears of the tang of blood in the air. They were safe and they were smiling, the memory of which would bring a great deal of comfort in the days to come. There was certain to be trying times ahead.

 

* * *

 

 

The End.


End file.
